


In Full Bloom

by watermelloon (linumlea)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linumlea/pseuds/watermelloon
Summary: Hanahaki disease: illness where the patient throws up and coughs flowers or flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. In order to fully recover from the disease, one’s love must be fulfilled. You can die by the flower petals blocking your airways, suffocated by unrequited love.There are crimson petals on Victor's palm.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yurika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yurika/gifts).



Ah, yes, that video. That video that made Victor think that there is still something in this world that he wants to pursue. A true feeling in what he used to love to do. 

The scrape of the skates on the ice, the music that fades out from his hearing and only exists in his head when he moves and he dances and he  _ feels.  _

And then he stops and he breathes out and in and out and he hears again - the booms of the cheers, the last notes of the music he chose that disappear, strangled by the human noise. 

Shouldn’t he love this? Didn’t he use to…?

There was pure love in that video. There was happiness coming just from making the body move and creating music with each fingertip and each fluid push. There was sadness of all of this not being enough.

Yuuri Katsuki. An open book that hides so much.

The trees are in full bloom when Victor arrives, gentle petals filling the wind and swirling in a hypnotizing dance on the ground. The last breaths of winter making branches shake and shed tear-shaped blossoms. The light pink of petaldrift looks like snow tinted with just a drop of carmine.

He takes a step towards the entrance of the onsen when something seizes him up in half. Something hurts in his throat, deep, deep, fluttering like hurt bird’s wings. He coughs so much he goes red in the face.

Makkachin paws at his leg, whining with concern. He smiles at her from behind the hand he has pressed to his mouth. “I’m alright,” he tells her. He opens his palm and frowns at the bright-red petals.

He looks up at the sea of pale pink of the trees and at the crimson petals again. They feel heavy. He shakes his head and brushes them off from his palm. They fall to the ground and wind sweeps them off; they disappear as suddenly as they have appeared.

The door rattles as he slides it open. “Welcome!” he hears and he sighs, content. He can’t wait to try out the warmth of the bath he has heard so much about.

 

He wakes in the middle of the night, something burning in his lungs. He can’t breathe and he coughs, both hands pressed to his chest that rips in its seams under the violent choking.

He tastes red and he sees red under the tightly clenched lids. There is a vague thought that he didn’t really want things to end like this. Not before he reaches Yuuri’s and his personal victory.

Whatever closed up his throat subsides. He falls back on the bed; sweat beads on his forehead and forearms and there are tears prickling at his eyes. Last shaky gasps escape his throat that feels like set on fire before he calms down.

He hears a distant bark and some whining before the door opens and Makkachin leaps at the bed, tackling him. 

“Victor?” Yuuri asks, his voice rasp, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He is standing in the doorway, one hand still at the doors. “Makkachin went nuts all of the sudden and then I heard you cough. Are you alright?”

Victor opens his mouth. For a moment he thinks he has lost his voice, but then it rips. He grimaces when he tastes metal. “It’s fine,” he says. His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

Yuuri yawns so hard his eyes tear up and he rubs at them again. He blinks and frowns at Victor’s bed.

“What are those?”

Victor looks down and a cold jolt runs through his spine. A wave of a hot shiver makes him tremble. 

There are flowers scattered on his bed. Whole blossoms and petals that were ripped and crumpled. They look grey in the dimness of the night. 

Victor feels something burning at his eyelids. That shouldn’t be possible.

His gaze flickers up and he stares at Yuuri. He thought…? With the way Yuuri has warmed up to him during the recent two months and the way he didn’t shy away from his touch…?

“Did you leave the window open?” Yuuri asks with a smile. He sits at the bed. Victor feels his stomach revolting when Yuuri touches the broken flowers. He wants to stop him, sick climbing up his throat, when Yuuri brings one blossom closer to his face, inspecting it. “That’s weird, though. I have never seen flowers like these around here. And there are so many.”

“They are fake,” Victor rasps out. “Fell out of a prop I brought along.”

“Oh,” Yuuri hums and starts gathering them; Victor grabs his wrist.

“Leave them,” he says, hating the nervousness he can hear in his voice. “I will clean it up.”

“Alright,” Yuuri says. He looks Victor up and down and gets up. “I’m going back to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” Victor repeats. 

When the door closes, Victor chokes back a sob that tries to escape him. He grabs the covers and flips them, trampling the flowers when they fall on the floor.

He stands in the middle of the room, shaking. Broken blossoms fill the room with a sweet scent of the spring.

 

“You look pale, Vicchan,” mama Katsuki tells Victor with concern in the morning. The tiny woman stands on her tiptoes and Victor still has to lean for her to reach his forehead. “Do you have a cold?”

“No, madame,” he tells her and smiles, dazzling. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“That’s no good, that’s no good at all. I will make something good for you just in case. Colds in the summer are the worst, they are so persistent,” she says as she ushers him to sit down. Being a man nearing his thirties Victor almost forgot what it felt like to be pampered and he secretly enjoys it.

“There is no need, really.”

“Oh, stop it, Vicchan, everyone needs to be taken care of once in a while.”

“Hmm? Yuuri’s coach is sick?” Mari crouches next to Victor and stares at him. “Yuuri will be unhappy. Mom, make him that ginger tea. You will feel like set on fire, but it works wonders,” she says with a wink. Victor feels something draped on his shoulders and he turns around.

“You need to keep warm,” Yuuri’s father says with a nod as he covers Victor with a blanket. “Yuuri is off to the rink already, I will call him and tell him that you won’t be coming there today.”

“I-” Victor starts.

“Here,” there is a giant cup set in front of him, filled to the brim with steaming tea of a peculiar smell. “Drink all of this and go take a nap when you are done.”

“I-”

“I wonder if we have vitamin C,” mama Katsuki is off again. Yuuri’s father pats Victor on the shoulder and leaves, Mari following him out.

“Thank you,” Victor calls after them. Mari waves without turning back.

Victor bites his lip as he looks down at the cup. He rubs at the nape of his neck and wonders.

 

Victor leaps to his knees and throws the covers over his head. It’s pushing at the back of his throat, it’s seizing him up, it’s closing in. He chokes and there is no free space in his lungs, so he coughs and he coughs and it’s falling out of his mouth, bitter with flower juice.

Finally he can breathe again and he heaves a gasp after gasp, leaning on the bed. He peeks from under the covers, his hands shaking. There is no one knocking on his doors, concerned with the noise.

He is glad. He didn’t want to them to hear. He didn’t want them to worry again.

He turns on one of the lamps and looks at the flowers. There are broken white lilies scattered on the linen, along with tiny drops of blood. 

Victor calmly picks them all up and throws them out of the window. The summer is coming to an end, nights coming sooner and sun lazing around in the mornings. There is some chill in the air, cooling his heated skin and he breathes in. The wind carries the salt from the ocean and it tingles in his mouth. 

His chest is on fire. Has been for days. 

**Author's Note:**

> I literally learned about the hanahaki today and the inspiration struck like a lightning. So of course I had to write this instead of studying for exams.
> 
> find me at: [gays-on-ice.tumblr.com](http://gays-on-ice.tumblr.com/)


End file.
